


When You Mix Proposals and Emotionally Constipated Volleyball Players, and, Unsurprisingly, Chaos Ensues

by pinklighterfluid



Series: When Emotionally Constipated Volleyball Players Get in Emotionally Complicated Situations [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Conversations, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021, Slice of Life, basically omi likes to quietly exist, bc no one notices you there, chaos i await thee to ensue, except quietly existing means accidentally witnessing three proposals, kutotsuki if you squint, oh and did i mention one of the accidental proposals is his own, oh and did i mention they all speak in //metaphors//
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklighterfluid/pseuds/pinklighterfluid
Summary: Sakusa takes it as his time to leave – but not before, of course, throwing in a few more leaves into the fire. He smirks, and says to Suna, “I hope you don’t decide to have Osamu’sonigirihere. Someone may walk in.” The couple stills. Sakusa opens the door to head back in, but not before hearing Osamu’s splutter of indignation,“wait – when did the onigiri-ring analogy become an onigiri-dick analogy?! Did he really just compare my dick to an onigiri,”and an echo of Suna’s quiet laugh.Three days later, he hears the news from both Komori and Miya – Suna and Osamu are happily engaged. Sakusa Kiyoomi decides that this cannot happen again. Sakusa Kiyoomi thinks to himself:I’m fucking bailing the next time anything related to proposals comes up. No more.Sakusa Kiyoomi, to his horror, does not end upfucking bailingwhen the next proposal comes up.How could he, when it’sMiyathis time.In which Sakusa Kiyoomi gets front seat tickets to three proposals. One of which is his own.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: When Emotionally Constipated Volleyball Players Get in Emotionally Complicated Situations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157573
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112





	When You Mix Proposals and Emotionally Constipated Volleyball Players, and, Unsurprisingly, Chaos Ensues

The first time it happens, it goes something like this:

Sakusa Kiyoomi, standing quietly in the corner of locker-room, minding his own business. Checks his messages from the _Annoying Boyfriend Support Group_ chat. Ignores Miya’s multitude of “Ommmiiiii-ommmii” texts. Sakusa Kiyoomi is, all in all, minding his own business – until – 

“Keiji, will you marry me?” – a pause, a stretching silence, then – 

“Gwahhh that sounds so formal! And not romantic at all!” A stomp of frustration and the somewhat disturbing sight of Bokuto aggressively pulling at his hair in front of the mirrors– flat and drooping after coming out from the shower. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi swears he’s minding his own business. He’s aggressively attempting to shrink into himself – even clears his throat a few times to remind Bokuto that _Sakusa is still here_. No reaction. Just before Sakusa decides to run for it, he hears a mighty inhale – as if Bokuto was inhaling not only the sweaty-ass locker-room air, but also courage. And then – 

“Keiji – I’ve loved you for a long time.” _Dammit_ , Sakusa thinks. _He couldn’t bolt now, it seems like Bokuto is finally getting somewhere._ He wouldn’t want to disturb his spiel. “I’ve loved you for a long time, though it took me half as long to realise it. You taught me it was okay to make mistakes. You loved me equally as much when I was at my best and my worst. You see me. You call me a star when I’m on the court, but you’re my star everywhere – anchored, warm, always guiding me home. Just like I’ve learnt long ago to not take your sets for granted, I promise to never take your love for granted. Marry me?”

Of course Bokuto-san would make love a volleyball analogy, Sakusa thinks to himself. He rolls his eyes, but a small smile of affection graces his lips. Just before he can forget that he’s accidentally intruding in a Very Intimate Moment – a high pitched wail punctures his ears: “AHHHHH. Omi-kun, what are you doing here?!” Bokuto’s ears flushes red in embarrassment and his face pales with shock.

“Bokuto-san, I was here before you. Waiting for Miya. It’s not my fault you didn’t notice me here.”

“Did you hear tha-” thankfully for Sakusa, Akaashi walks in at the most opportune moment: “Bokuto-san, are you ready to go?” He raises his eyebrows at Bokuto’s aggressive flailing and Sakusa’s smirk, but chooses not to question it. 

“Aghhaasshiii,” Bokuto whines, “Aghhaasshiiiii.” 

“Bokuto-san, are you okay? I think you broke him, Sakusa-san.”

“He broke himself. By the way, you two are attending Kuroo and Tsukishima’s _wedding_ , right?” Sakusa smirks at Bokuto, making sure to emphasise the wedding part a little more than necessary, just because he likes to be an ass once in a while. Bokuto splutters even more, and descends into a cesspit of chaotic energy. Sakusa Kiyoomi decides it’s a Very Good Time To Bolt, before things get even more out of hand. 

He watches as Akaashi pats Bokuto’s cheeks in affection, giving him a little kiss on the nose, and turns towards Sakusa with a playfully reprimanding gaze: “Don’t bully my boyfriend, Sakusa-san. We’ll be at their wedding – although I’ll be seeing you at Wine Wednesdays with the rest of the Support Group, yes? I bought your favourite brand of sanitizer.”

Not a day has gone by without him feeling appreciative for the Support Group group chat. Tsukishima’s saltiness. Suna’s slyness. Iwaizumi’s gruffness. Kenma’s straight-forwardness. All of them, keeping him sane. Sakusa nods somberly, “I will always be there for my one love, Umeboshi-scented, 70% ethyl alcohol sanitizer.”

Akaashi quietly laughs and begins to lead Bokuto – who is still fumbling (and bumbling) – out the door. Before they leave, though, Sakusa interjects: “Oh, and Bokuto, I wouldn’t worry so much, if I were you.” Because although Sakusa is a jerk 90% of the time, there is still that tiny speck of goodness within him. Somewhere. 

Akaashi smiles at Sakusa knowingly, then turns to Bokuto – looks him straight in the eye – and says: “I wouldn’t worry so much either.” Bokuto’s body completely stills, “wha- what are you talking about Aghaashi. Hah-hahahaahaa.” Sakusa hides his grin (Sakusa does not _grin_ ) under his mask. Trust Akaashi to know everything about Bokuto before even Bokuto does. 

Two weeks later, Bokuto announces their engagement in the MSBY locker room. 

The second time it happens, Sakusa Kiyoomi thinks the world must be playing with him. They were at Tsukishima and Kuroo’s wedding. Sakusa was invited, which meant Atsumu was invited, which therefore meant _Osamu_ , consequently, _Suna_ , were invited too. Sakusa, in the midst of the afterparty mingling, slinks away to the outdoor terrace – grateful to get some fresh air and silence. He is, surprise surprise, minding his own business, when Osamu strolls in and invades his solitary space. 

For fuck’s sake – Sakusa Kiyoomi is _right there_. A 189cm giant standing in Osamu’s line of sight. Yet – despite it all – Osamu twitches suspiciously, looks left and right to check whether anyone is there (but apparently chooses to overlook the front, which just so happens to be where Sakusa is Quietly Existing), shoves his hand into his pocket, and brings out – lo and behold – a tiny box. And with the way Osamu is looking at it, a box that is, most certainly, holding a ring. Goddammit. 

Osamu stares. And stares. And his gaze softens, corners smoothening in awe and anticipation. Honestly, Sakusa cannot help but think that Osamu is staring at the ring like he’s staring at a new Onigiri recipe. All in all, it’s a sickening, but reluctantly cute, sight. Sakusa is torn between a kind of horror at witnessing such an intimate moment, and a fascination at how much love Osamu has for Suna. 

Like the 90% dick that he is, Sakusa takes out his phone and quickly snaps a photo, future blackmail for when the two are happily engaged, and Sakusa can rub in Suna’s face at Osamu’s cheesiness (and, in Miya’s face, for coming second to his twin – but Sakusa chooses not to entertain the thought of marrying Miya just yet). Lovesick ring-staring? Ew.

And because the world likes to torture Sakusa, he realizes too late that he had forgotten to turn off the shutter sound. A crisp click of the camera resonates through the darkness, and Sakusa grimaces. How inconvenient.

A yelp. “Sakusa-san, what are ya doing here?!” 

Sakusa raises an eyebrow – a sense of déjà vu washes over him. Nevermind – screw déjà vu – he knows exactly where this happened before. Draping his limbs across the railing (skin thankfully protected by the already-contaminated outer coat he’s sporting) and crossing his arms, he deadpans: “For Tsukishima-san’s wedding, of course. For the record, I was here before you.”

“No ya weren’t. I looked around. Ya weren’t here before.”

Sakusa scowls: “Well, apparently you and Miya are more alike than you think. Both equally oblivious to your surroundings.” Osamu splutters. “You looked like you were going to devour the ri—” 

He glimpses the terrace door opening, letting out no other than one Suna Rintarou – Sakusa coughs “—devour the, uh, onigiri. At the, uh, open food bar.” Sakusa Kiyoomi may be a 90% dick, but he certainly respects boundaries. He winces at his terrible diversion and internally squirms under Suna’s perceptive gaze – the one person who can probably single-handedly rattle Sakusa’s iron façade. 

Osamu – bless his soul – immediately swivels his body to intercept Suna’s suspicious gaze towards Sakusa. “Rin!”

“Samu, what are you doing out here?”

“Kiyoomi-san and I were just talking about how, uh, great the onirigi was!” _God help me_ , Sakusa thinks – Osamu was worse at this than he is.

“You literally both make and eat onigiri every day, Samu. What’s so special about this one?”

“Well, you can…” Osamu aggressively scours his brain for a believable excuse, “you can taste Tsukishima-san and Kuroo-san’s devotion to one another in a single bite! Their enduring love! A symbol of forever!” Sakusa chokes in thin air and Osamu – how dare he – looks proud of himself for coming up with such an ingenious response. Suna stares at Osamu like he’s lost his mind (after all, _Atsumu_ was meant to be the chaotic one) – though Sakusa cannot help but notice the slight crinkle of Suna’s eyes, an amused fondness towards his boyfriend. 

God, there’s just too much love in the air. Sakusa never asked to witness this. As an emotionally constipated human, this is definitely an emotional overload. 

Sakusa never, however, misses the chance to be a little bit of an ass. He immediately intercepts in faux pondering: “Hmm… I think you’re getting the wedding onigiri and the wedding ring mixed up, Osamu-san. They’re two different things. For most people, I suppose.” He looks pointedly at Osamu, and Osamu scrambles to look at everywhere but Sakusa. 

Suna gives a miniscule smile – a wee upward turning of single lip. Then, an eye glint paired with a solemn nod at Osamu, “for what it’s worth, I’d like any kind of onigiri as long as it’s from you, Samu. I don’t mind having your onigiri forever.” Osamu flushes red, mouth gaping open and eyes glittering in admiration. 

Sakusa takes it as his time to leave – but not before, of course, throwing in a few more leaves into the fire. He smirks, and says to Suna, “I hope you don’t decide to have Osamu’s _onigiri_ here. Someone may walk in.” The couple stills. Sakusa opens the door to head back in, but not before hearing Osamu’s splutter of indignation, _“wait – when did the onigiri-ring analogy become an onigiri-dick analogy?! Did he really just compare my dick to an onigiri?!”_ And an echo of Suna’s quiet laugh. 

Three days later and he hears the news from both Komori and Miya – Suna and Osamu are happily engaged. Sakusa Kiyoomi decides that this cannot happen again. Sakusa Kiyoomi thinks to himself: _I’m fucking bailing the next time anything related to proposals comes up. No more._

Sakusa Kiyoomi, to his horror, does not end up _fucking bailing_ when the next proposal comes up.

How could he, when it’s _Miya_ this time. 

Komori had cancelled their dinner after falling sick, so Sakusa’s home earlier than usual. Taking this as a chance to, finally, get some time with himself, Sakusa carefully wraps his body in blankets like a burrito. Minds his own business and reads a book. 

_Until_. Miya barges in – slightly out of breath, a bit sweaty (Sakusa scrunches up his nose – ew), and an unhinged glimmer in his eyes. Sakusa’s about to say something snarky, until Miya proceeds to, literally, overturn everything in the room. _What the fuck_ , mutters Sakusa. He blatantly watches as a disheveled Miya pulls out all the hangers, opens and ransacks every single drawer, muttering to himself like a madman, “—where is it where is it where is it goddammit where did I put it.” Miya crouches and rams his fingers onto his scalp, squeezes his head shut in a futile attempt to recall something probably long forgotten, until – 

“Yes!” Miya, a man on a mission, charges towards the laundry basket next to the bathroom door, proceeds to mumble to himself: “Damn whatta genius idea. Omi-omi would never look through my smelly clothes.” _At least he got that right_ , thinks Sakusa. Before Sakusa can even question his decisions in dating this single-minded ape, Miya sinks his arm into the basket, exclaims “ _aha!_ ” and pulls out a small box.

Sakusa’s eyes widen. No. Why. This cannot be the way he ends up agreeing to marry Miya. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. _“He accidentally proposed to me by revealing the ring he shoved under piles of germ-filled clothed when he thought I wasn’t there.”_ Oh, god, no.

Besides, Sakusa had plans of his own. He wanted to be the one who proposed first. Winning is better when it's winning against Miya. 

Before Sakusa could even hatch an evasion plan, Miya turns around. Immediately, Sakusa screws his eyes shut, summoning his inner mummy-essence and pretends to be dead (or, well, perhaps dead asleep is more suitable). Unfortunately, Miya literally – and Sakusa means literally – screams. Ear-piercing, eye-wrenching, skin-crawling, guttural scream. Worse than Osamu and Bokuto combined. Sakusa jolts, and because he is so tangled into his blankets, loses his bearings and ends up face-diving onto the floor. 

Sakusa looks up and sees Miya kneeling down on the floor, one arm deep in the laundry basket (presumably, to hide the ring once more). “Ahaaah…ahahaa Omi-omi…I didn’t see you there!” 

He feels like he’s lost 5 years of his life – heart hammering aggressively in shock. Standing and brushing himself off, Sakusa walks over to Miya and looms over him. Mustering the deadliest scowl his face would allow, he hisses: “Miya. I am going to skin you, then fucking spray you with pure ethanol, and then set you on fire if you don’t explain why the fuck you let out that inhuman screech.” 

Miya goes from a dark red to a pale while in the matter of seconds. Sakusa smirks. “Righ-right. Uhm – I really missed the way ya smell? So that’s why I’m here. Kneeling over the laundry basket. Not kneeling because of any other reason, of course. Ah! Here it is! This is what I’m looking for.” He pulls out Sakusa’s neon yellow Itachiyama jacket.

“Right. The jacket that you said ‘looked like the ugliest neon highlighter you’ve seen’.” _Time to have some fun_ , Sakusa thinks. In faux contemplation, he asks: “I wonder…what other reasons can you be kneeling for?” 

In retrospect, Sakusa muses, of course Miya would take this so out of context. Because Miya doesn’t _have_ the context. Miya does not know that _Sakusa_ knows about the ring. Therefore, in his single-minded ape thought process, there is but one answer to Sakusa’s question.

Atsumu smirks. A competitive glint in his eye. Immediately, Sakusa knows he’s in danger. He wonders how he went from having the upper hand to having the rug pulled from under him in the manner of seconds. Atsumu smirks, foxlike, with eyes hooded in seduction, and says: “well, Omi-omi. I can think of one other reason I’d be kneeling right now. _And_ you’re right in front of me. How convenient of ya.”

Sakusa knows he’s in danger (he feels the excitement shoot straight to his dick - thank god that, unlike Miya, he thinks with his mind and not with his sexual drive), but hell he’s not going down without a fight. “For all I know, Miya, you could be kneeling for another reason. After all, you are on one knee.” Sakusa raises an eyebrow in challenge – implication clear and daring. 

Sakusa watches Miya’s gaze turn suspicious. Miya may be oblivious – but he’s surprisingly perceptive. As a setter who wants to give the best tosses, he had to be. He’s catching on quickly, and understanding that his Omi-omi probably witnessed something he shouldn’t have dawns on him. But because he likes to be the death of Sakusa, Atsumu’s smile turns wicked as he replies: “Didn’t know ya had a getting-proposed-to kink, Omi. Gotta say, never heard of that one before. But I'm down ta try new things with ya - we can even role-play.” An eye for an eye. A challenge for a challenge.

A challenge for a challenge– and Sakusa is apparently both fucking _competitive_ and has a death wish. He returns Miya’s smirk with one of his own. “Sure.” Miya’s eyebrows fly to the ceiling – a look of pleasant surprise. “But only on one condition.” 

Sakusa looks at Miya with a new kind of intensity – with black orbs of glazed metallic that leaves Atsumu in shivers. His self-preservation instincts are telling him to flee. His dick, though, is telling him to _get some_. 

Miya licks his lips. “And what would that be?”

Sakusa internally gives himself a satisfied pat on the back – he’s successfully diverted Miya’s attention, enough that he would definitely flounder once he hears Sakusa’s condition. Sakusa may think with his mind, but Miya, on most days, most thankfully does not.

“We can role play, but I'm going to be the one proposing first.”

“Wha-” Atsumu splutters. He stands up, and looks at Sakusa in wonder - speechless. After a moment of gaping, Atsumu asks: “Do ya mean that, Omi? Do you really mean that?” 

Eyes locked, a breath apart, Sakusa says, with no hesitance, no doubt, only a confident “ _Yes._ ” Taking Miya’s hand, Sakusa pulls him into a light kiss. No more needs to be said - words unspoken, both a love conveyed a language need not to be spoken. 

“Now that’s settled, come to bed. Oh, and, I’m doing laundry tomorrow, so if you really want that ‘Itachiyama jacket’ remember to take it out of the basket.” He pulls away and Miya gives him such a genuine grin that Sakusa feels himself physically melting. Miya practically skips to the shower and Sakusa gets himself comfortable in bed. Sakusa starts planning how he's going to formally propose in his head (but that story will be left unshared - after all, these intimate moments are for Sakusa and Miya, and them alone). Sakusa thinks of first kisses and umeboshi. He thinks of fear of not being enough, and insecurities. He thinks of Tsukishima and Kuroo, and Tsukishima’s words: _because of, not in spite of._ Sakusa smiles, a sense of contentment blooming from his chest.

It’s near midnight when they’re cuddling that Miya suddenly says: “Ya know, Omi-omi, considering this happened three times…do ya think maybe it’s less of a _them_ thing and more of a _you_ thing. Maybe ya have invisibility powers or something. Like a superhero!” 

Sakusa groans and digs his face into Miya’s shoulder and mutters, “can’t believe I want to marry you of all people. You’re a menace. You’re narcissistic, a brat, annoying. You cry ugly whenever we watch sad movies. You hide rings in laundry baskets. You look in the mirror way too many times—” Miya giggles and replies with a simple, “ya love me, Omi.” 

_I do_ , Sakusa thinks to himself. Just like how he’ll say _I do_ , in the wedding that is to come.


End file.
